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88 must find room by your fireside for myself and a friend or so."

Bournonville was profuse in politeness and protestations. "I have yet left a flask or two of fine old Burgundy; and I think I know what fair saint will best honour the health," added he, with a most insinuating smile.

But in the meantime a far different scene had been going on in the chamber. Francesca, as the door opened, had shrunk to the side of Madelon, when her attention, as the tumult ceased, was caught by a young cavalier who was gazing earnestly upon her. The light fell more fully on his face—she could not be deceived—she sprang forward, and, laying her hand on his arm, exclaimed in English, "Evelyn, dearest Evelyn! have you forgotten Francesca Carrara?"

"Mr. Evelyn!" exclaimed Guido, at the same moment.

Lost in delight and surprise, the young Englishman stood for an instant motionless; when, recovering from his astonishment, he caught the beautiful hand extended towards him, and, kissing it, eagerly whispered, "Francesca, the lovely Francesca, I am too happy!"

Turning to Guido, he expressed his pleasure